


when the night gets heavy (lay your heaven on me)

by sicheng (soumise)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, non-au, what am I doing omg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 11:51:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7843828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soumise/pseuds/sicheng
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sicheng always looks cute to Taeyong. For the first time, he lets himself do something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when the night gets heavy (lay your heaven on me)

The dark room is silent as Taeyong slips into it, taking care not to wake any of the members sleeping as he steps towards Sicheng’s bed. He tugs lightly at the covers the younger boy has pulled to his face, peeling them backwards when the sleepy boy’s eyes flutter up at him. 

“Hyung?” His voice is soft, confused but laced with sleep. Taeyong holds a finger to his lips, slipping between the sheets carefully, smiling at the adorably unsure face searching up at him in the darkness. Gently, so as not to startle the other, he bows his head to press a kiss to Sicheng’s slightly parted lips. The other boy’s head jerks back minutely, too tired to hide his surprise. 

“Taeyong? Hyung?” The other tries once more, shifting to make room from his hyung, moving onto his side in a mirror of the way Taeyong has settled into lying. When he replies, Taeyong speaks barely above a whisper – the dorms are for once silent, everyone but the two of them asleep, and even then Sicheng looks like he could drift off at any moment. “You looked so cute today, I had to let know.” He replies, hands searching out the other boy, Sicheng yields easily, letting his hyung pull him closer, kiss gently on his jawline. 

Taeyong likes this about Sicheng, the way he just submits – gives himself time to process each action and decide whether he wants to proceed or not. If asked Taeyong would admit he was taking advantage of the trait to plant these self-indulgent little kisses on the other’s jaw, drawing back only to kiss at the other boy’s ear, aiming for his lips but missing just to end up pressing his lips to Sicheng’s chin.

“My outfit…?” Sicheng tries again. His voice is more alert now, a bit higher in volume, which makes Taeyong press a finger to his lips to keep him quiet. He had spent most of the day in their stylist’s choice – some garish red shirt with the usual leather straps across his chest, freshly dyed hair styled back in pinks and yellows. Taeyong doesn’t mean that though, he means the soft sleepy faced boy that he had dragged out the dorms at 4am that morning, in a pair of soft cotton shorts and a tshirt that he thinks may have belonged to one of the bigger members, what with how it draped off the smaller boy’s shoulders. 

He voices as much, quietly, whispering it into the space between their faces. Sicheng’s face scrunches sweetly as he listens, and Taeyong fights the smile at the edges of his lips at the faint blush on his cheeks. “You want to kiss me because of that?” He finally replies. Taeyong grins. 

“I wanted to kiss you all day. I wanted to press you into this mattress.” His lack of sleep makes him brutally honest, because Taeyong wouldn’t be doing this if he was really thinking. Sicheng doesn’t seem to understand at first, it’s probably the first time he’s heard this vocabulary strung together in this way. Sleep-muddled, his brain working to piece the meaning together is practically visible. After a long minute he simply replies. “You’ve kissed a lot of boys before?” 

“Not really.” Taeyong replies. He probably leans more towards the liking-girls side of bisexual, if he had to label it – but he’d had a drunken kiss with one of the trainees who’d later dropped out the company once. “I can’t stop thinking about kissing you. I was just hoping you’d be okay with it.” 

Sicheng makes a soft noise into the dark, and then he smiles. “Thanks for trusting me hyung.” He says. Taeyong finds it all very cute, but he just really wants to get back to kissing. He doesn’t need to wait though, because Sicheng leans forward, and his lips catch Taeyong’s in a kiss that’s brief and chaste. 

“I never kissed a boy before, “He says, so close Taeyong can feel his lips brushing against his as they move, “But I think I like kissing you, hyung.” 

Taeyong cups Sicheng’s slender face between his hands, feeling the way the other boy readily moves with him, shifting onto his back so that Taeyong can lean over him from the side, can bring their mouths together. Sicheng’s lips are soft, raw along the seam where he chews nervously on them backstage. They’re hesitant but reciprocating, and after the gentle kisses they exchange his hands follow up Taeyong’s arms, coming to rest at the base of his neck, fingers playing softly into his hairline.

He can’t help the little groan he muffles against the other’s lips, pressing more insistently against the boy beneath him. He almost can’t believe this is happening, that their sweet little Sicheng is so readily letting him claim his lips, that he can feel the other’s sleepy smile when he strokes a thumb over his soft, makeup free cheek. He parts his lips, drags his tongue carefully along the flesh of Sicheng’s lip, which parts easily for him. 

There’s heat in Taeyong’s belly as he rolls closer, and Sicheng so easily lets him climb above him, feels the other boy’s thighs part to let him between them. This had all been compulsive, he had expected Sicheng would have waived him away when he first tried to take his blankets back from his face – he never dreamed of having the younger pinned beneath him, his hands tangling the hair at the back of Taeyong’s head, his soft tongue meeting Taeyong’s in his mouth. 

Sicheng tastes like the mint toothpaste they all share, and he uses his tongue like he wants Taeyong to lick that taste away. Just kissing him has Taeyong half hard, and he’s sure Sicheng must be able to feel him, their position not really giving much room to hide. 

He lowers his hips experimentally against the younger’s and he’d been half praying for this – Sicheng had featured in quite a few wet dreams over the past few weeks – but he still can’t believe it’s happening. Sicheng whines softly at the contact, head thumping back against his pillow to stare up at Taeyong. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, voice breathless. His lips are kiss stung, and when Taeyong’s eyes flick to the red light of the alarm by Sicheng’s bed. He’s been in the others bed for going on twenty minutes – just kissing. 

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine.” Taeyong replies, shifting his weight onto his knees to lift his hips from where he had slotted them against Sicheng’s. 

“No. It feels good, hyung. You made me feel really good.” Sicheng says instead, and Taeyong lifts his arm to smooth the little crease between the other’s eyebrows. There’s an unspoken question in his hesitance. He doesn’t understand. Even in the dark, Taeyong can see the younger boy overthinking.

“Let me show you.” He whispers. Sicheng laughs, apparently his Korean is good enough to know the line is cliché. 

There are still other members sleeping in the room, so they have to be discrete. Taeyong tugs the covers further up his shoulders, making a slight tent for the two of them, and when he leans down to kiss Sicheng again, the other is ready, sucking Taeyong’s lip into his mouth. 

Carefully he rolls his hips back down, he can feel the bump of Sicheng’s crotch, and the other boy seems to be equally as turned on – half way to hard. Taeyong works up a slow grind, feeling with gaining pleasure the slow burn of arousal between his legs. And then Sicheng makes this needy little hiccup into his mouth, hips suddenly jerking to meet each time Taeyong grinds down. 

It’s been a long time since either of them have had any kind of remotely sexual contact, so it takes very little for them both to get hard. “More.” Sicheng says, and when Taeyong leans back to stare at the other he has a little dusting of red on his cheeks, like he’s not sure that’s okay. 

“Can I take your pants off?” Taeyong asks, pawing at Sicheng’s hip. The other has on a pair of little grey briefs, hidden by the oversized tshirt he was sleeping in. The boy beneath him nods, a little waver of anxiety on his face as he feels Taeyong’s hands trace carefully up the outside of his thighs, before his fingers are stroking along the waistband of Sicheng’s briefs, dipping below it briefly and teasingly, before tugging firmly on the elastic. 

His briefs slip down his legs easily, and Taeyong has to move slightly to get them all the way off, but then Sicheng is bare beneath him, the cotton white of his tshirt tugged up to expose his soft undefined belly. Taeyong can’t help but reach out to touch the pale skin there, can see even in the poor light the trace of a tan line where his briefs sit. And then, enough to make him groan, the pink tip of the younger boy’s hard cock, laying against his stomach. Taeyong feels like he can’t breathe. 

Sicheng makes a little whine again, deliberately quiet, and Taeyong more out of solidarity, yanks down his own boxers before covering Sicheng with his body, grasping at his chin to meet their lips once more. Sicheng’s bare thighs bracket his hips, and when Taeyong slots their hips together again he can feel the press of the other’s dick against his, the way it twitches at the contact. His head dips to muffle his groan into Sicheng’s shoulder.

“What do you want?” His words strained as his hips work downwards. Sicheng’s breathing is audible, tiny pants escaping his parted lips. When Taeyong pulls back slightly, resting on his forearms above the other, Sicheng’s eyes are shut, head slightly tipped back. He doesn’t seem to have heard the question, so Taeyong dips down, presses his open mouth to the other’s throat and sucks lightly on the skin – not enough to leave a mark. He can feel Sicheng’s delicate fingers weave back into his hair, fingernails scraping his scalp as the other tugs. 

It occurs to him that maybe Sicheng doesn’t know the Korean for what he wants. He knows crude things, of course, they all teach him how to swear and joke around – but beyond that, Taeyong wonders what he can vocalise. His hand traces down the other’s stomach, feels the muscles pull taught as he skips beneath his belly button, and then wraps his hand steadily around Sicheng’s cock, beginning to experimentally give it a few jerks. 

He’d looked down to do so, watching in the dark the faint outline of his arm, the ruddy tip of his dick slipping between his fist. When he looks up, Sicheng’s eyes are open, staring in almost disbelief at Taeyong, lips parted in a silent moan. They draw together to kiss again, and Sicheng, finally muffled by something, makes little whining noises into Taeyong’s mouth. He sounds so desperate, tiny and vulnerable in Taeyong’s arms. Taeyong can feel himself growing harder at each little swallowed moan. 

Suddenly, Sicheng’s arms come to grip at his arm, slowing down his hand. Taeyong pulls back to see the other’s face, looking for signs he wants to stop, but finds only an adorable blush, his lip pulled between his teeth. Beneath him, he can feel the way Sicheng’s chest races to catch up with his heartbeat. 

“I was going to –“ He begins, but cuts himself off. Eyebrows drawn together, Taeyong can see him working to find a word to make the point. Cum his brain helpfully supplies and Taeyong looks between them in surprise, the shine of precum dribbling between his fingers that he’d barely noticed. 

“You’re close?” He asks, more to confirm than anything. 

Sicheng nods, barely, “I’m close.” 

Taeyong smiles a little, leans down to bite at Sicheng’s lips before smoothing his tongue over the sting. Taeyong opens his grip, catches his own hard cock in his hand and grinds them together messily, jerking his hand down over them both. There’s hands on his shoulder, his upper arms, in his hair as Sicheng struggles to catch up again, too busy panting in Taeyong’s mouth to be able to kiss back. Taeyong uses this to lick his way into the other boy’s mouth, smoothing over his tongue and along the roof of his mouth, tasting what he can. 

Sicheng pulls tightly at his hair, and frantically, but still barely a whisper he gasps for Taeyong. In the silence of the room his desperate call of “Hyung!” clings to the air as the younger boy cums, hard, cock kicking in Taeyong’s hand as he strokes him to release. 

Taeyong watches in silent admiration as Sicheng comes down from his high. His mouth is open, eyes screwed shut tightly as he breathes out harshly into the room, clearly fighting back any moans that might wake the others. One of his hands had found its way to the pillow beneath his head, grip as tight on it as the other hand’s grip is in Taeyong’s hair. The tight pain on his scalp is what finally drives Taeyong over the edge, and he grinds himself down just to hear Sicheng’s gasping attempts to fight the oversensitivity. 

Then, both boys are silent. Taeyong almost believes that the younger has fallen asleep until Sicheng looks up at him, eyes startlingly clear. Taeyong suddenly feels embarrassed.

“Let me clean you up.” Taeyong mumbles, reaching behind himself to find his boxers and tugging them on, ignoring mess on his fingers as he tucks himself into his underwear. He stumbles to their shared bathroom in the dark, not able to turn on a light in case it wakes anyone, and finds his own washcloth, wetting it with warm water before returning. 

Sicheng had, in the meantime, thrown the covers back off his stomach, and his bare skin, his white tshirt pushed to his armpits makes Taeyong want to go again. He slides easily back onto the bed, wiping automatically at Sicheng, ignoring the gaze he can feel on his face. 

Sicheng’s hand stops him when he’s clean, and he flips the washcloth over, taking it from Taeyong’s hand. He meets Taeyong’s eyes as he wipes the older boy’s hands for him, pats the cloth down Taeyong’s sensitive navel and across the damp band of his underwear. In the silence, the moment is startling intimate. For the first time, Taeyong wonders if this was a bad idea. 

When Sicheng’s done, he drops the cloth to the mattress, and tugs at his covers. He gives Taeyong a sweet smile as he buries his head back into his pillow. “Hyung,” he begins to mumble sleepily, and his Korean is heavily accented as he struggles with sleep, “That was nice.” 

Taeyong swallows, and he has to agree. He wants pull the younger boy into his arms and kiss him to sleep. Instead, he grabs the cum-stained washcloth and presses a brief kiss to Sicheng’s forehead, and hopes neither of them regret in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> mmmmmm this is the first time ive written anything in aaaages of course its smut - anyway be gentle with me im new to nct
> 
> [chinese translation](http://iwish-uknow.lofter.com/post/3548f4_f285d93)


End file.
